Expectations
by HaloFin17
Summary: An emotional oneshot in which Patroclus survives his fateful encounter with Hector, only to face an even greater danger in the form of his cousin's wrath. Patroclus POV, also features Eudorus and of course Achilles. No slash intended. Enjoy!


**Summary: **An emotional oneshot in which Patroclus survives his fateful encounter with Hector, only to face an even greater danger in the form of Achilles' wrath. Patroclus POV, no slash intended. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **For as much as I write about these guys, I still own nothing of the ancient Greek heroes or their epic tales. What a bummer.

**Author's Note: **So, as I was working diligently on the next chapter of "Honor," my current major project, the inspiration for this story just came to me out of nowhere, and I had to write it. In the past, I know I've gotten a few requests to write a fic of this nature, but I never thought I'd be able to work it all out. And yet, here it is: a fic in which Patroclus actually survives and all drama that might follow! Tremendous thanks to my dear friend **Kat Carbines **for staying up until two in the morning to help me with the ending for this fic, even after she'd spent all day traveling in the car. You're awesome, chica, thank you so much! And with that, I hope this little oneshot can live up to everyone's "expectations," lol. Do enjoy!

**Expectations**

This was not what I had expected.

It was about all my dazed brain could fathom as I numbly followed Eudorus' lead back to the tents. My head still rang from the dizzying blow Prince Hector had dealt me with his shield, but I knew I should consider myself fortunate, as it could just as easily have been a killing blow from his sword. "Fortunate," however, was by no means the word I would have chosen to describe the precarious situation in which I now found myself.

As it was, Hector's blow had simply stunned me, jarring the helmet from my head and putting an abrupt end to my masquerade. Perhaps it had been so doomed even from the start; I should never have tried to beat him. I was ready for the battle, but not ready for him. I will never forget the look of horror on his face when the venerable Prince of Troy realized he was fighting a soldier only half his age.

I had honestly expected there to be more commotion, more outraged shouting when my true identity was revealed. But all I heard, apart from the kings' distant orders for the day's battle to conclude, was Eudorus hissing in my ear as he rushed forward to grasp my elbow and pull me away from the confusion.

"Foolish child!"

Even now, I don't know whether his tone had spoken more of anger, betrayal, or honest disappointment. But the man's eyes, cold as ice and clear as the sea, had begged to tell a different story – a tale of unspeakable relief when we were finally a safe distance away from the field of battle, and of fear over what was to come next. For all of us.

Apart from the splitting headache and resulting nausea, the only other notable mark of my first combat was a sizeable gash that ran along my right shoulder. I didn't even remember where or when I had acquired it. Eudorus had haphazardly bound it in a temporary bandage of cloth so that now the hot blood only ran in a trickle down my arm. It itched, more than anything else, yet I could tell from the worry in my friend's crystal blue eyes that the wound was deep enough to warrant some concern. It would hurt later, I had no doubt; but for now, the injury was the least of my troubles.

For all too soon, Eudorus and I stood together uneasily outside my cousin's tent. Is it wrong that I was more genuinely afraid then of my own guardian and hero, than when I had first lunged into the fray of battle with all the Myrmidons at my back? Odysseus had offered to come with us, but Eudorus and I had both declined. For while I deeply appreciated the Ithacan's attentions, this affair simply was not his concern.

Just then I heard a long, deep sigh beside me. "So what exactly did you plan on telling him? Or did you not expect to make it this far?"

Eudorus' words stung, and I dropped my eyes from the still doorway of Achilles' shelter to the sandy ground. "I don't know. I'll tell him the truth, I suppose."

"Which is what?"

I felt the fire in my heart flare up again. "That even though _he _may be content to sit by the ships and do nothing while our countrymen die like dogs under the feet of the Trojans, _I _cannot."

"So you just took matters into your own hands, then, without even considering the consequences? Patroclus, what did you honestly think would happen?"

"I don't know!" I exclaimed again, yet my shoulders slumped under the weight of inevitable defeat. "But not this."

"And do you truly believe none of us felt the same?" my companion kept his voice low, not yet desiring to draw the Golden Lion from his lair. "Why make it your burden to bear alone?"

"Because I had already tried everything else, and so had others, but nothing would convince him to rejoin the battle." My head started pounding again, and it was all I could do to ignore the pain. "What else could I have done, Eudorus?"

"You could have followed orders, like the rest of us, and been content with that."

I had not enough stomach left to argue with my friend, but Achilles' words of two days ago came drifting back to me as though carried on a breeze. _Don't waste your life following some fool's orders. _Had my cousin unwittingly spoken of himself then? But even when I'd tried to follow his advice and act on my own initiative rather than on some king's, all I had managed was to create more trouble than the effort had been worth. And it was not going to end well.

"Are you ready?"

My mouth suddenly dry, I swallowed hard and nodded an affirmative, furiously blinking away the black spots that danced across my vision with the movement. I would have to face my cousin sooner or later; it might as well be sooner.

"Achilles?"

I don't think Eudorus will ever know how grateful I was to him for initiating the contact. He could just as easily have left it to me, but at that moment, I doubt I could have found my voice.

"Achilles!"

After that second summons, the Lion of the Myrmidons himself prowled forth, and I felt my knees suddenly go weak. Between that and my spinning head, it required every ounce of willpower I possessed not to lean pitifully against Eudorus.

From where he stood before us, Achilles surveyed the scene in an instant. His facial expression betrayed no emotion, but a sudden gleam in his blue eyes stole the very breath from my lungs and the warmth from my blood. I think Eudorus and I were the only ones who could have caught that look, or interpreted what it meant; but it would be no overstatement to say that I literally feared for my life in that moment. For there I was, standing in my cousin's famous armor, with his equally infamous Myrmidons behind me. And we were all bloody from the battle that he had explicitly commanded us _not _to enter.

Achilles idly lifted a hand to rub the back of his head, but I could see the tension in the muscles of his broad shoulders, like a coiled snake just waiting to strike. Yet he said nothing. Eudorus might as well have not even been there, for the demigod's eyes never left my face. I could not meet that gaze. I was a dead man.

Suddenly, my cousin jerked his golden head in the direction of the tent, indicating for me to follow. Of course. Whatever he wanted to say – or do – to me, at least it would be said or done in private. Nevertheless, Eudorus had to give me a quick nudge in the back to get me moving, and from that point, my feet shuffled forward as though acting without my knowledge or consent. Very much like I had just done to Achilles.

Once inside the shelter, out of the harsh sunlight, I held my breath while hovering anxiously behind my cousin. His back was to me, and he was bent over a small chest. I could hear him rummaging for something. At length, he turned toward me, his face still stony, with a cloth and small vial in his hand. Without a word, he took my uninjured shoulder and forced me down until I was sitting on his bed. I offered no resistance. As my rightful guardian, he could punish me however he saw fit, and none might say otherwise.

I didn't realize until then just how hard my heart was pounding, or how quickly my breath came. My head still swam. Achilles reclaimed his helmet from my slack hand and unceremoniously went about removing my armor. _His _armor.

I have been privileged enough over the years to know both the stern and the gentle sides of my cousin's man-slaying hands, one of very few to experience the latter. His hands were not so gentle then. He was not as rough with me as I might have expected him to be, but neither did he make any great effort to spare me pain as he removed the breastplate over my injured shoulder.

I bit back a hiss, desperately not wanting to appear weak now, after my fruitless show of bravado. He would never forgive me for this; I knew it. He would reclaim all that was rightfully his – all that I had unrightfully taken – and then send me away with harsh words that would ring in my ears for as long as I might live. Because I would know that they were true. Why had he not spoken them already? After all, Achilles has never been known for his patience.

By now the armor was gone, and suddenly, I felt more vulnerable and exposed than I could ever recall. It was not at all what I would have expected of our time together after my first true battle; somehow, I'd always imagined it would be an occasion for joyous celebration. Instead, I found myself hanging my head under the scrutiny of my warlord's ferocious eyes, my cheeks flushed in light of the humiliation and the silent, pending dread.

Achilles sat down beside me, still not speaking, and I shivered, reflexively wrapping my arms around my bare chest. It wasn't cold. If anything, the air in the tent was close and stifling. With firm hands, my cousin wordlessly poured the contents of his vial onto the cloth and began to dab my shoulder wound with it. The concoction felt like fire on my raw, open flesh, and I had to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out.

Looking back, I realize now that I should have utilized this time of quiet intimacy to explain my actions and confront what I had done; but I had still been too disoriented, too confused by my cousin's inexplicable behavior. And so I lost my chance.

When my injury was cleansed to his satisfaction, Achilles went back to the chest and this time returned with a needle and thread. I knew full well what was coming next and unashamedly looked away. The feel of the needle pricking through my skin and drawing the thread after was bad enough; I certainly did not need to see it, too. It also aggravated my upset stomach even further, so that all I wanted was to lie down, sleep for days, and wake pretending that none of this nightmare had occurred.

And when the stitching was done, he simply rose and left me – left me, without another glance and not a single word spoken. I stayed there on his bed for a while, perplexed beyond description, and waited for him to summon me again. But he never came.

Finally, I mustered my courage and stepped out of the tent back into the sunlight, keeping one wary eye open for my cousin all the while. I saw him slip back inside almost immediately after I had left, and soon Eudorus was shouting out orders for the remainder of our stores to be loaded onto the ship as soon as possible.

Though the command didn't surprise me, I still groaned and hid my throbbing head in my hands, barely masking an involuntary sob. Everything I'd worked for, everything I'd hoped to accomplish in aiding my fellow Greeks, had been for naught.

We were going home.

* * *

At first, I didn't know if my presence on board was even permitted. Did Achilles mean to leave me here in Troy, so I could die in battle with the men for whom I had risked everything to help? Not that I would have been welcomed by them now. But my dilemma was solved when Eudorus spotted me lingering far off to the side and handed me a bundle of supplies. Though he didn't say anything, it was all the invitation I needed to follow him up the gangplank and onto the ship.

Throughout our journey, I kept to myself below deck, still too fearful to face my cousin and too ashamed to face my comrades. I had expected to be closer to these men, after shedding blood alongside them like I'd always dreamed. But it was not so.

They shunned me more than ever now, perhaps afraid that sympathy toward me would result in a display of wrathful displeasure from Achilles. I could not blame them for that. But Eudorus does not fear his lord in the same manner as the rest, yet even he still turned away from me coldly whenever I might catch him staring at me with those pale, sorrowful eyes. That, I think, hurt worse than all the scorn I felt from the others; after all, they had never liked me much to begin with.

Back home, the days dragged on into weeks, and soon a full cycle of the moon had passed. I still lived with Achilles, but only in a purely physical sense. We shared a dwelling, yes; but we rarely saw one another and still had not spoken a single word. It was killing me. I could come and go as I pleased and was essentially a free man…yet it was killing me.

For as much as my dear cousin's overprotective mothering used to aggravate me, I quickly realized that it was by far preferable to his new stance of deliberate indifference. Every time I saw him, I wanted to scream – to prostrate myself at his feet and beg for his forgiveness, if only in hopes that he would just say something to me. Anything.

But I was still too terrified to approach him.

Finally, after enough nights of desperately crying myself to sleep like a child, my despairing loneliness drove me to seek out the one person in whom I thought I might still confide. Eudorus lived a mere three miles from Achilles and myself, but since the sun had already halfway set by the time I left, it was fully dark when I at last arrived at his humble home.

"Eudorus?" I called softly, with a cautious knock at the door. I had not spoken to him either in the month since our return to Phthia and did not know how I would be received. He did indeed look surprised to see me, as expected; but he must have also seen how pathetic I looked with my sleepless face and red-rimmed eyes. I think it was pity that brought the smile to his face, but I didn't care. One kind glace alone would have made the trip worthwhile.

"Come in, Patroclus," he said with greater warmth than I would have anticipated. I gratefully followed him inside, suddenly unsure of where or how to begin.

"You know why I am here?" I asked finally.

"I can guess easily enough."

Eudorus had tried to be aloof with his answer, but it was all I needed.

"Achilles and I still haven't spoken. He hasn't said a word to me since…" I couldn't bring myself to finish the thought. "Since that morning in Troy."

But instead of offering advice or sympathy like I'd expected, my cousin's trusted captain simply nodded, studying me closely while I helped myself to a chair. He remained standing.

"Eudorus, I can't take this anymore," I lamented miserably, hanging my head in my hands and all the while battling back tears. "I expected him to hate me, but I thought he would disown me, or strike me – at least _yell_ at me. And now I almost wish he would." I groaned. "I don't understand! Is he so above me now that he won't even speak to me to banish me? Does he expect me to leave of my own accord?"

"I think that he expects you to understand the severe magnitude of what you did that day – and to be truly sorry for it."

"But I _am _sorry!"

"Are you?" Eudorus' voice had grown suddenly cold again, and I flinched at the sound of it. "Are you sorry enough that you would do things differently, if given a second chance?"

A hard lump rose up in my throat. Would I do it differently? Would I honestly, deliberately choose _not _to assist my countrymen?

Eudorus could read my face like an open scroll. "You see? You wouldn't change a thing."

"I only wanted to help them. The mere _thought _of Achilles returning to battle was enough to inspire the men – you saw that, Eudorus, you can't deny it." I sighed, feeling my shoulders sag a little. "But I _am _sorry that I betrayed his confidence, his trust; and I'm sorry that I dishonored him by my actions. That wasn't what I intended."

"And have you told your cousin this?"

I grimaced. "No. I just told you, we haven't spoken at all – not a single word, Eudorus."

He nodded slowly. "I understand. But I also understand that what you describe requires _two_ people not talking to each other. Have you even tried talking to him yet, child?"

"No," I murmured dejectedly. "I did not think it would be my place to approach him. I don't want to force him to speak with me unless he's ready."

"Yet it was _you _who wronged _him_. Doesn't it then follow that you should be the one to approach him and make amends?"

I chewed worriedly on my bottom lip. "But don't you think he would only be even angrier with me for my insolence in making the first move?"

Eudorus sighed, and his azure eyes suddenly grew sad. "I think that he would want to hear everything you just told me, Patroclus."

* * *

Some hours later, I knelt in the dark of night by Achilles' bedside, fully prepared to wait until morning for him to wake. But I didn't expect to wait that long. For my guardian is a warrior through and through, in times of both peace and war; and I'm sure that his warrior's instincts alerted him distantly yet unmistakably that there was someone else in the room with him.

The meager moonlight from the window illuminated his unmoving form, reflecting in a pale glow off of his bronze skin and golden hair. Very soon I saw him stir and lift his head, then grow still again when he realized exactly who had disturbed his rest. I chose that moment to speak.

"My lord Achilles – cousin…"

Suddenly, all of the proper phrases and elaborate speeches that I'd prepared on the slow walk back from Eudorus' home flew from my brain like a bird freed from a cage. And all my thoughts condensed into a painful sob, followed by two agonizing words.

"I'm sorry…" And never in all my life had I meant anything more earnestly.

Achilles slowly lifted himself halfway off the bed and turned to face me, locking me in his most intense stare. But he said nothing.

"Cousin, I – I know now that I was wrong to impersonate you and mislead your men. I know I dishonored you in doing so, but I swear, it wasn't what I wanted. I just wanted to help them! They needed you, needed just to believe their hero Achilles went with them into battle. But I was still wrong to betray you, my only kin, and I promise I will never, ever disrespect you so again."

My breathing came in a rush now, so that by the time I finished, I was nearly panting with exertion. "Forgive me, cousin. Please, I…I'm so sorry!"

Once the tears started, I could not have stopped them for all the treasures in Troy. And still he stared at me, his expression as blank and unreadable as it had been every day since that fateful morning.

"Well?" I pressed hopelessly, having now finally reached the end of my bitter frustrations. "Aren't you going to say something? Anything? Achilles, please, say something!"

When even that outburst evoked no response, I bowed my head as I knelt and let my shoulders droop, defeated. I could not look him in the eye, nor did I want to. The hollow emptiness of desperation consumed me, for if this unhappy confrontation failed, I did not know what I was to do.

But then the next thing I knew, Achilles had reached out to pull me up onto the bed with him and was crushing me against his chest. I melted at once into that abrupt embrace, burying my nose in the crook of his neck while relief flooded in through every pore of my body.

The lateness of the hour, combined with the effort of pouring forth a month's worth of distraught emotions, had left me utterly exhausted, and I felt myself go limp against my cousin, who held me without comment or complaint while I wept on him like a babe.

But suddenly, I felt a hot tear hit my shoulder and trickle down my bare arm, followed by another. They were not my own. And then I heard something – whispers murmured into my hair so softly that they were scarcely audible above my own racking sobs. But perhaps that had been exactly the point.

"I forgive you. I forgive you, cousin."

He affectionately stroked my hair, much like my mother had so long ago, and I'm sure I felt the gentle warmth of his kisses laid atop my head. It might not have been much, and no doubt there would be need for much more healing between us in the days ahead; but for now, it was enough.

It had been several years since I last slept with Achilles – not since the nightmares of my parents' death finally ceased to haunt me. Yet when I woke the following morning, there I was in bed beside my cousin, with his breath on my neck and one powerful arm wrapped protectively around my waist, as was his wont. It was a place warm, familiar, and blessedly safe. Everything had been such a blur that night, I honestly don't know how I ended up there.

But I do know it was more than I had expected.


End file.
